First and foremost don't be afraid.
In spite of all the evidence to the contrary, you are not alone- not even close. The first gay bar you go into the women will seem menacing and fatally unattractive, which is really an insult to unattractive people, just know its not all like that...
The best job you will ever have will be working in the library at law school. Try to enjoy it more.
Along that same line, don't date from 1989-1992, its three years, believe me - skip it.
You will have the opportunity to go to Paris in 1989 and to Veracruz in 2003, don't take either trip- its not what you think its going to be and it will just piss you off.
When you are somewhere and there are obnoxious children give the parents the benefit of the doubt, most likely they are both motified and exhausted.
Don't fight with either one of your Grandmothers.
Its good to keep it at around 4 pets in TOTAL.
Try to not be petty, especially with your family and friends.
At different times you will have a BMW a Mercedes and a Range Rover, and it is really very cool, and although money is isn't the end all, it beats the shit of not having money, yet you'll find the best part about having a great car will be loaning it to your dad drive it.
Buy stock in a company called Microsoft...
Some amazing things are going to happen to you later in life, and you will eventually feel close to whole. Marry only for love.
Take more pictures of your self in bathing suits.
Tell Joe not to kill himself. I'm not sure it will matter, but at least you will know you did it and it wont haunt you later on. Trust your instincts.
Every woman is a few margaritas away from lesbianism. Eventually you will discover this and use it to your advantage, just letting you know...
The hardest thing you will ever do is not be true to who you are, don't be so hard on yourself-
And you will never pick a winner of the Kentucky Derby, just accept it.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
The good thing about feeling bad
I've dated a few chubby girls. Guilty confession, during a few heated arguments I thought to myself, shut up Porky, yet I never actually said it.
Here's the thing, never - ever tell a woman she looks fat, even if you really hate her. Weight has been a major issue in the lives of most of the woman I've dated. I might think it- yet would never, and at this point I do mean never, say it.
I seems too mean.
For whatever reason being chubby doesn't bother me, and I don't really care if someone calls me fat, yet what I lack in sensitivity about my weight I make up for in my sensitively about my clothes.
Gioconda does this thing, typically in the morning if she sees me before I leave, she raises her eyebrows, moves her head to the right to look at me from the side, takes a deep disapproving breath, and smiles without showing her teeth.
She gives me the "look" and I know but I always say, "what?"
"Are you leaving in that?"
Today it was my shirt. My criteria for clothes these days is, fits, no obvious staining or holes, and clean.
I worked in my office all day so I really didn't care. Things have been sort of difficult in every way for me lately, so in light of the rest of my problems her assessment of my wardrobe didn't even blip my radar.
Don't get me wrong, when I'm going to court it really works my head.
I have accidentally gained back all the weight I accidentally lost so now the pants that were swimming on me last year, are sausage casing this year. The up side, no one asks me if I have cancer.
Most days I look in the mirror and think I look like Chaz Bono which is not the look I'm going for ever...so I begin the day with a significant degree of insecurity about my appearance.
The one good thing about feeling really shitty is once you are at a certain level nothing piled on matters.
Today getting the "look" was water off my back.
It's a hard thing for me, finding clothes I am both comfortable and confident.
I have often thought I should have chosen a vocation with a uniform. Not like the Hot Dog on a Stick uniform, something cool- like a UPS driver, a golfer or surgeon.
My vocation would work for me if I lived in England, the barristers wear black robes, and those funny wigs.
What I want to wear, and what I have to wear are in direct conflict with each other, so its something Im sensitive about.
Yet today it just didn't matter...the one good thing about feeling really bad, you can only go as low as the floor.
Here's the thing, never - ever tell a woman she looks fat, even if you really hate her. Weight has been a major issue in the lives of most of the woman I've dated. I might think it- yet would never, and at this point I do mean never, say it.
I seems too mean.
For whatever reason being chubby doesn't bother me, and I don't really care if someone calls me fat, yet what I lack in sensitivity about my weight I make up for in my sensitively about my clothes.
Gioconda does this thing, typically in the morning if she sees me before I leave, she raises her eyebrows, moves her head to the right to look at me from the side, takes a deep disapproving breath, and smiles without showing her teeth.
She gives me the "look" and I know but I always say, "what?"
"Are you leaving in that?"
Today it was my shirt. My criteria for clothes these days is, fits, no obvious staining or holes, and clean.
I worked in my office all day so I really didn't care. Things have been sort of difficult in every way for me lately, so in light of the rest of my problems her assessment of my wardrobe didn't even blip my radar.
Don't get me wrong, when I'm going to court it really works my head.
I have accidentally gained back all the weight I accidentally lost so now the pants that were swimming on me last year, are sausage casing this year. The up side, no one asks me if I have cancer.
Most days I look in the mirror and think I look like Chaz Bono which is not the look I'm going for ever...so I begin the day with a significant degree of insecurity about my appearance.
The one good thing about feeling really shitty is once you are at a certain level nothing piled on matters.
Today getting the "look" was water off my back.
It's a hard thing for me, finding clothes I am both comfortable and confident.
I have often thought I should have chosen a vocation with a uniform. Not like the Hot Dog on a Stick uniform, something cool- like a UPS driver, a golfer or surgeon.
My vocation would work for me if I lived in England, the barristers wear black robes, and those funny wigs.
What I want to wear, and what I have to wear are in direct conflict with each other, so its something Im sensitive about.
Yet today it just didn't matter...the one good thing about feeling really bad, you can only go as low as the floor.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Dead Bunnies
Out of the last three litters of bunnies only one bunny remains. Last week I saw several new ones, and then earlier this week, I noticed some really small babies- my guess there are two new litters. For a while I was in a panic the yard would become over run with rabbits, but somehow about 99% are eventually killed.
Last week one of the Calious (pronounced KAI-U) brought a little white bunny with gray spots into the house, although I thought I felt a faint heart beat, it died very soon after I found it- in the jaws of the dog...
Rabbits make this really horrible sound when they are being attacked, a very distinctive high pitched death scream.
I thought I heard it last night, and unfortunately I was right.
I think the dogs find the bodies when they are very close to or actually dead - what I can't figure out is who is killing them. I think its the cat, but still can't figure out if the bunnies get out and then are murdered, or if the cat somehow catches them inside the enclosure.
I suspect there is a poison involved- or the cat is volunteering to "babysit", and rabbits have very short memories, so the parents may fall for it every time.
Clearly, unless I want to have my house collapse under its own weight, the untimely death of these little guys is actually necessary. Yet it always bums me out, although I have gotten used to handling of the little corpse(s)- not in a good way- more like I can tolerate it way.
Whats my point? I'm not exactly sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact that if you do something enough times-- even the disposal of the body of a still warm limp little defenseless bunny becomes commonplace.
Guilty confession- last night I just threw the little guy in the dumpster- not even a cheap shopping bag coffin. It made me feel callus and oddly empty.
So its just a lot all the time. The girls, my job, the re hydrating from my severe to really severe night sweats....
And so tonight I hope there is no bunny death, I'm standing of the edge of the cliff and although I wont purposely take a step backward hearing that death scream coupled with the full moon...
It may just be enough to knock me over....
Just because I have gotten used to handling dead bunnies doesn't mean I want to keep doing it....
Last week one of the Calious (pronounced KAI-U) brought a little white bunny with gray spots into the house, although I thought I felt a faint heart beat, it died very soon after I found it- in the jaws of the dog...
Rabbits make this really horrible sound when they are being attacked, a very distinctive high pitched death scream.
I thought I heard it last night, and unfortunately I was right.
I think the dogs find the bodies when they are very close to or actually dead - what I can't figure out is who is killing them. I think its the cat, but still can't figure out if the bunnies get out and then are murdered, or if the cat somehow catches them inside the enclosure.
I suspect there is a poison involved- or the cat is volunteering to "babysit", and rabbits have very short memories, so the parents may fall for it every time.
Clearly, unless I want to have my house collapse under its own weight, the untimely death of these little guys is actually necessary. Yet it always bums me out, although I have gotten used to handling of the little corpse(s)- not in a good way- more like I can tolerate it way.
Whats my point? I'm not exactly sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact that if you do something enough times-- even the disposal of the body of a still warm limp little defenseless bunny becomes commonplace.
Guilty confession- last night I just threw the little guy in the dumpster- not even a cheap shopping bag coffin. It made me feel callus and oddly empty.
So its just a lot all the time. The girls, my job, the re hydrating from my severe to really severe night sweats....
And so tonight I hope there is no bunny death, I'm standing of the edge of the cliff and although I wont purposely take a step backward hearing that death scream coupled with the full moon...
It may just be enough to knock me over....
Just because I have gotten used to handling dead bunnies doesn't mean I want to keep doing it....
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Fucking Outdoors
I'm just not interested in doing any real physical activity anymore.
Since I'm not that person today doesn't mean I wasn't that person-or a version of that person. When I lived in Long Beach I went kayaking almost every weekend. I rode my bike all the the time. I worked out three days a week- so now- I'm just over it. My dads a big backpacker/ camper, my whole life I participated in that shit.
My dad wants me to spread his ashes at a place called Vernal Falls in Yosemite- so I will be making that hike at some point - that is if he predeceases me- other than that I have no other hiking plans. I gave my bike to my dad last year, I hadn't ridden it in a while and it is a really good bike- I did the ride with it ( BOSTON TO NEW YORK)-I have all the equipment the butt shorts the stupid colorful nylon shirts- somewhere in my basement...and I did have a subscription to Outside Magazine...so my inactivity is rather recent- but I do think it is permanent.
Guilty confession- I fell a lot on my bike. Once I ran into a sign when my tire went over a rock- once I dog attacked my peddle, on the last day of the ride it was raining and I slid down a hill somewhere in New York....and those are just the ones I can think of without really thinking about it.
I would like to start golfing again. Its outside- so theres that- you can walk (or ride comfortably in a cart while sipping on a beer and smoking a stogie).
I love everything about golfing but the people who do it- they are typically uptight white dudes- but other than the participants- I'm all in for golf.
I guess any form of gambling isn't a real sport.
Since I'm not that person today doesn't mean I wasn't that person-or a version of that person. When I lived in Long Beach I went kayaking almost every weekend. I rode my bike all the the time. I worked out three days a week- so now- I'm just over it. My dads a big backpacker/ camper, my whole life I participated in that shit.
My dad wants me to spread his ashes at a place called Vernal Falls in Yosemite- so I will be making that hike at some point - that is if he predeceases me- other than that I have no other hiking plans. I gave my bike to my dad last year, I hadn't ridden it in a while and it is a really good bike- I did the ride with it ( BOSTON TO NEW YORK)-I have all the equipment the butt shorts the stupid colorful nylon shirts- somewhere in my basement...and I did have a subscription to Outside Magazine...so my inactivity is rather recent- but I do think it is permanent.
Guilty confession- I fell a lot on my bike. Once I ran into a sign when my tire went over a rock- once I dog attacked my peddle, on the last day of the ride it was raining and I slid down a hill somewhere in New York....and those are just the ones I can think of without really thinking about it.
I would like to start golfing again. Its outside- so theres that- you can walk (or ride comfortably in a cart while sipping on a beer and smoking a stogie).
I love everything about golfing but the people who do it- they are typically uptight white dudes- but other than the participants- I'm all in for golf.
I guess any form of gambling isn't a real sport.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Snakes and worms
There is a show on the Animal Planet channel called "Monster's Inside Me"- stories told by people who thought it would be a good decision while visiting Lima Peru to eat undercooked pork out of a dirty paper bag purchased from dude serving food from a rusty shopping cart- typically its ass worms, but I did watch one episode where the parasite was in the brain- and one time there was a bug that crawled inside a lady's ear...I find it beyond repelling, yet I've watched it at least three times.
So it got me to thinking who comes up with this shit- the last thing I need is another fucked up thing to get nervous about.
The week the girls came home from the hospital there was a 2 year old girl in Florida killed by "pet" python, so I got this in my head and I now have a fear of my daughters being attacked by a snake. To the best of my knowledge there aren't any pythons here at 2107- or 2105, but I have this in my head...and I think about it at least once a week.
Lately more because I had a dream a few nights ago I was with the girls visiting a someone who had a python slithering around the house.
"I'm not spending the night with my daughters unless you put the snake away in a locked cage," I said.
"He's friendly and too small to kill anyone," the snake owner replied. Admittedly the snake did seem friendly, he came right up to me and seemed to smile- still - yet its a snake- thus I knew I shouldn't be lulled into a false sense of security. I like it when I'm smart in my dreams...
I'm not afraid to say I hate snakes and worms. They disgust me and make me nervous and I could live the rest of my life not seeing either ever again.
Today Sadie was sipping rain water of the concrete step in front of my house- and so I start thinking is she is going to end up with an ass worm, and I'm going to unwittingly share a folk or glass of water with her and I'm going to end up with an ass worm...so now as I'm writing this I feel my spincter get itchy...
Fucking television.
So it got me to thinking who comes up with this shit- the last thing I need is another fucked up thing to get nervous about.
The week the girls came home from the hospital there was a 2 year old girl in Florida killed by "pet" python, so I got this in my head and I now have a fear of my daughters being attacked by a snake. To the best of my knowledge there aren't any pythons here at 2107- or 2105, but I have this in my head...and I think about it at least once a week.
Lately more because I had a dream a few nights ago I was with the girls visiting a someone who had a python slithering around the house.
"I'm not spending the night with my daughters unless you put the snake away in a locked cage," I said.
"He's friendly and too small to kill anyone," the snake owner replied. Admittedly the snake did seem friendly, he came right up to me and seemed to smile- still - yet its a snake- thus I knew I shouldn't be lulled into a false sense of security. I like it when I'm smart in my dreams...
I'm not afraid to say I hate snakes and worms. They disgust me and make me nervous and I could live the rest of my life not seeing either ever again.
Today Sadie was sipping rain water of the concrete step in front of my house- and so I start thinking is she is going to end up with an ass worm, and I'm going to unwittingly share a folk or glass of water with her and I'm going to end up with an ass worm...so now as I'm writing this I feel my spincter get itchy...
Fucking television.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The Moon
Tonight there was a waning crescent moon in the sky. The light side moon is reduced to a silver but you still see the shape of the dark side, so its a black moon with a slash of light.
Its not my favorite moon, I prefer a full moon, just because of the danger of it (potential werewolf attacks), yet the waning moon is what I find the most beautiful.
Just before my junior year of college I took a astronomy class in the summer. I thought it would be a fantastic dating tool, in that it is always so great when a person can point out a specific constellation. Sure I can find the big dipper, if the sky is right, but other than that star- I'm lost. I got a D in that class...and it was thus never used as a tool of seduction.
There's this great scene in the movie A Beautiful Mind where the prodigy John Nash played by Russell Crow points out the stars and planets to his date (and later his wife) Alicia, played by the ridiculously beautiful Jennifer Connely. He seems so intelligent and charming....yet he turns out to be schizophrenic crazier than bat shit- so if that's the consequence to knowing our solar system, I would rather stay relatively ignorant.
Still- I wish I had something like that in my pocket. Knowledge about something sort of painful to learn, yet really cool to know about- like plants- knowing the names of vegetation-its a great thing to know- but really who wants to memorize that book.
So really, I have no rap.
I have decided to stick to conversation about the things I actually know about...which may take me a while to completely nail down...
Its not my favorite moon, I prefer a full moon, just because of the danger of it (potential werewolf attacks), yet the waning moon is what I find the most beautiful.
Just before my junior year of college I took a astronomy class in the summer. I thought it would be a fantastic dating tool, in that it is always so great when a person can point out a specific constellation. Sure I can find the big dipper, if the sky is right, but other than that star- I'm lost. I got a D in that class...and it was thus never used as a tool of seduction.
There's this great scene in the movie A Beautiful Mind where the prodigy John Nash played by Russell Crow points out the stars and planets to his date (and later his wife) Alicia, played by the ridiculously beautiful Jennifer Connely. He seems so intelligent and charming....yet he turns out to be schizophrenic crazier than bat shit- so if that's the consequence to knowing our solar system, I would rather stay relatively ignorant.
Still- I wish I had something like that in my pocket. Knowledge about something sort of painful to learn, yet really cool to know about- like plants- knowing the names of vegetation-its a great thing to know- but really who wants to memorize that book.
So really, I have no rap.
I have decided to stick to conversation about the things I actually know about...which may take me a while to completely nail down...
Sunday, April 17, 2011
West Nile Virus
While walking out to my car Friday morning I found a dead bird.
She (although I have no idea of the sex I will call it she because all birds seem female to me) looked peaceful, eyes closed, and not a mark on her. It was as if one moment she was sitting in the tree and then bang, dead on the ground.
I didn't provide a proper burial. Picking her up by one of her perfectly intact legs I tossed her into the trash dumpster.
So it just so happens Friday was my last day of work for the firm I was employed with until last Friday- which means Monday - which is now tomorrow- I begin a new job.
After I do anything, and I literally mean anything, I will roll it around in my head for a while. The time frame for "a while" is relatively dynamic. The parking place I choose may stay with me for 10-25 minutes, whereas I'm still thinking about my selection of the college I attended- and I graduated from college in '86- so theres that.
A job change could peculate for up to a decade easily, so its right now this decision in the center of my brain, right behind my forehead...so when I find a bird on the ground with no visible injury I begin to think- what exactly does that mean, and because I have made this major decision in the last two weeks I apply any meaning that may exist to this decision.
So then I go through all the reasons for leaving my old job for this new job (which is sort of an old job as this was a firm I worked out before), and the more I think about it the more I find myself vacillating, which is stupid because its too late - but that doesn't stop me.
And then at some point I considered the possibility that finding a dead bird was just that - I found a bird that died, and for a very brief amount of time I was oddly comforted by the potential meaninglessness.
Yesterday while watching my daughters play in the wading pool, which when not a wading pool is a pig water trough, I caught a mosquito just as it began bite me on the forearm.
And then it occurred to me-dead bird- West Nile Virus...right?
Infection with WNV can be asymptomtic (no symptoms), or can lead to West Nile fever or severe West Nile disease.
It is estimated that about 20% of people who become infected with WNV will develop West Nile fever. Symptoms include fever, headache, tiredness, and body aches, occasionally with a skin rash (on the trunk of the body) and swollen lymph glands. While the illness can be as short as a few days, even healthy people have reported being sick for several weeks.
The symptoms of severe disease (also called neuroinvasive disease, such as West Nile encephalitis or meningitis or West Nile poliomyelitis) include headache, high fever, neck stiffness, stupor, disorientation, coma, tremors, convulsions, muscle weakness, and paralysis. It is estimated that approximately 1 in 150 persons infected with the West Nile virus will develop a more severe form of disease.
The incubation period in humans (i.e., time from infection to onset of disease symptoms) is 2-15 days, so I could have it and not know for another two weeks.
I feel the sensation of the symptoms ascend upon me as I write this now...
I don't know maybe I shouldn't have quit that job...
She (although I have no idea of the sex I will call it she because all birds seem female to me) looked peaceful, eyes closed, and not a mark on her. It was as if one moment she was sitting in the tree and then bang, dead on the ground.
I didn't provide a proper burial. Picking her up by one of her perfectly intact legs I tossed her into the trash dumpster.
So it just so happens Friday was my last day of work for the firm I was employed with until last Friday- which means Monday - which is now tomorrow- I begin a new job.
After I do anything, and I literally mean anything, I will roll it around in my head for a while. The time frame for "a while" is relatively dynamic. The parking place I choose may stay with me for 10-25 minutes, whereas I'm still thinking about my selection of the college I attended- and I graduated from college in '86- so theres that.
A job change could peculate for up to a decade easily, so its right now this decision in the center of my brain, right behind my forehead...so when I find a bird on the ground with no visible injury I begin to think- what exactly does that mean, and because I have made this major decision in the last two weeks I apply any meaning that may exist to this decision.
So then I go through all the reasons for leaving my old job for this new job (which is sort of an old job as this was a firm I worked out before), and the more I think about it the more I find myself vacillating, which is stupid because its too late - but that doesn't stop me.
And then at some point I considered the possibility that finding a dead bird was just that - I found a bird that died, and for a very brief amount of time I was oddly comforted by the potential meaninglessness.
Yesterday while watching my daughters play in the wading pool, which when not a wading pool is a pig water trough, I caught a mosquito just as it began bite me on the forearm.
And then it occurred to me-dead bird- West Nile Virus...right?
Infection with WNV can be asymptomtic (no symptoms), or can lead to West Nile fever or severe West Nile disease.
It is estimated that about 20% of people who become infected with WNV will develop West Nile fever. Symptoms include fever, headache, tiredness, and body aches, occasionally with a skin rash (on the trunk of the body) and swollen lymph glands. While the illness can be as short as a few days, even healthy people have reported being sick for several weeks.
The symptoms of severe disease (also called neuroinvasive disease, such as West Nile encephalitis or meningitis or West Nile poliomyelitis) include headache, high fever, neck stiffness, stupor, disorientation, coma, tremors, convulsions, muscle weakness, and paralysis. It is estimated that approximately 1 in 150 persons infected with the West Nile virus will develop a more severe form of disease.
The incubation period in humans (i.e., time from infection to onset of disease symptoms) is 2-15 days, so I could have it and not know for another two weeks.
I feel the sensation of the symptoms ascend upon me as I write this now...
I don't know maybe I shouldn't have quit that job...
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Smart Bunnies
Rabbits are not rodents. They are lagomorphs. Other lagomorphs include hares and pikas.
A well cared for house rabbit that has been spayed or neutered early in life has a life expectancy of 8 to 12 years of age. Rabbits living at the property located just outside 2105 Santa Rosa (RE: The guest house)- don’t fair so well
The gestation period of a rabbit is about 31 days; a rabbit can have up to 13 litters a year with every litter being between 2-6 kits. A group of rabbits is called a herd. My dogs help to thin that herd….
Harsh...
A few weeks back we had three adorable little "kits" and now there is one.
Although I can only confirm the death of one, I suspect the other missing bunny suffered the same fate, and I did interrupt the dog chewing a ball of fur which may have been a little bunny leg or hand.
A few months ago we had a several bunnies that disappeared one by one, again I'm not able to confirm more than one death (as a dog brought the little bunny corpse to me while I was laying in bed...which will get you up quickly as there is not only disgust involved in handling the limp body of a little tiny bunny, but the sadness of seeing something so amazingly cute lifeless
Here's the thing, I have no idea how the bunnies are being killed. I suspected a cat we have whom I have always thought to be sinister, I can't pinpoint the actual killer. The fact is there could be several murders, they may even be working in pairs or teams.
The remaining bunny is absolutely adorable, the girls like to visit him/her, and so I have been trying to avoid finding a little severed bunny head under the swing set - as I really can't afford that therapy - and the girls might find it- but I haven't known how to give the little guys more protection.
We have a St. Francis statue in the yard, and although I really don't believe in saints per se, it seemed worth a try. I put the chipped plaster statue in the enclosure with the bunnies and to date- to the best of my knowledge, there has been no bunny death.
So this got me to thinking. Maybe this last bunny is smarter that the other bunnies- an intellectual survival of the fittest.
Since I can't catch the bunnies and they are clearly breeding, this above intelligent bunny will breed and in about 13 generations I could have some really smart bunnies.
A well cared for house rabbit that has been spayed or neutered early in life has a life expectancy of 8 to 12 years of age. Rabbits living at the property located just outside 2105 Santa Rosa (RE: The guest house)- don’t fair so well
The gestation period of a rabbit is about 31 days; a rabbit can have up to 13 litters a year with every litter being between 2-6 kits. A group of rabbits is called a herd. My dogs help to thin that herd….
Harsh...
A few weeks back we had three adorable little "kits" and now there is one.
Although I can only confirm the death of one, I suspect the other missing bunny suffered the same fate, and I did interrupt the dog chewing a ball of fur which may have been a little bunny leg or hand.
A few months ago we had a several bunnies that disappeared one by one, again I'm not able to confirm more than one death (as a dog brought the little bunny corpse to me while I was laying in bed...which will get you up quickly as there is not only disgust involved in handling the limp body of a little tiny bunny, but the sadness of seeing something so amazingly cute lifeless
Here's the thing, I have no idea how the bunnies are being killed. I suspected a cat we have whom I have always thought to be sinister, I can't pinpoint the actual killer. The fact is there could be several murders, they may even be working in pairs or teams.
The remaining bunny is absolutely adorable, the girls like to visit him/her, and so I have been trying to avoid finding a little severed bunny head under the swing set - as I really can't afford that therapy - and the girls might find it- but I haven't known how to give the little guys more protection.
We have a St. Francis statue in the yard, and although I really don't believe in saints per se, it seemed worth a try. I put the chipped plaster statue in the enclosure with the bunnies and to date- to the best of my knowledge, there has been no bunny death.
So this got me to thinking. Maybe this last bunny is smarter that the other bunnies- an intellectual survival of the fittest.
Since I can't catch the bunnies and they are clearly breeding, this above intelligent bunny will breed and in about 13 generations I could have some really smart bunnies.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
True North
My maternal Grandmother had a preoccupation with direction- direction as in north south east and west.
She never used right or left, everything was described in terms of its location directionally.
"The salt shaker is on the shelf just north of the bowls."
That was relatively easy for me to decode, as I could identify a salt shaker, but when she didn't refer to a specific item or place I was completely lost.
"Put your bags in the northeast room," she would say.
Dude, I'm ten, can you give me another clue? How about room color?
I didn't know where northeast was when I was at my house.
My mother does the same thing.
"I got a new rug for the south room," she recently told me.
I always respond as though I know exactly what she is talking about .
"You needed a rug in there," I'll say just to be positive about the purchase, as I know thats really what she wants.
I have a poor sense of direction, and although most of the time I can tell what direction I am traveling it has taken me years.
On the dash board of my Grandmother's car she had a compass. I remember thinking it seemed obtrusive, I didn't like the way it looked, yet I couldn't stop staring at it bobbing as she drove. Now it sits on my desk in my office .
So when my Grandmother was somewhere unfamiliar she would always and I mean ALWAYS ask," Which way is north?"
And I always thought, who cares? She cared- a little direction obsessed.
Now I think its how she understood the world and her place in it, and I sort of get it.
The compass on my desk is out of balance, it no longer points in the right direction...but it doesn't matter- somehow in spite of my limitations I know true north...
She never used right or left, everything was described in terms of its location directionally.
"The salt shaker is on the shelf just north of the bowls."
That was relatively easy for me to decode, as I could identify a salt shaker, but when she didn't refer to a specific item or place I was completely lost.
"Put your bags in the northeast room," she would say.
Dude, I'm ten, can you give me another clue? How about room color?
I didn't know where northeast was when I was at my house.
My mother does the same thing.
"I got a new rug for the south room," she recently told me.
I always respond as though I know exactly what she is talking about .
"You needed a rug in there," I'll say just to be positive about the purchase, as I know thats really what she wants.
I have a poor sense of direction, and although most of the time I can tell what direction I am traveling it has taken me years.
On the dash board of my Grandmother's car she had a compass. I remember thinking it seemed obtrusive, I didn't like the way it looked, yet I couldn't stop staring at it bobbing as she drove. Now it sits on my desk in my office .
So when my Grandmother was somewhere unfamiliar she would always and I mean ALWAYS ask," Which way is north?"
And I always thought, who cares? She cared- a little direction obsessed.
Now I think its how she understood the world and her place in it, and I sort of get it.
The compass on my desk is out of balance, it no longer points in the right direction...but it doesn't matter- somehow in spite of my limitations I know true north...
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sancho
Apparently Aidan has a girlfriend and since I am no longer living in the main house, I am (apparently) the last to know.
So the strange part is her name is the same name of my parental Grandmother, and so its hard for me to get around this fact...yet I have been told she is very pretty - as (apparently) others here have actually seen her.
It's no wonder, he is 6'2 handsome, intelligent and charming. She is one of the first in a long line I'm certain.
So tonight I asked him about it. Right before dating him she had a boyfriend for eight months thus I now understand why he was called "Sancho" by his brothers since the beginning of the year. Sancho is the dude that takes your girl-and (apparently) thats what Aidan aka "Sancho" did- took the girl.
That in itself is something I have never accomplished although I had certainly contemplated trying. I have never been "Sancho".
"So what happened that made her decided to leave her boyfriend?" I asked.
"What happened? I happened," he replied.
Sancho- the guy that takes your girl.
He told me she had already gotten mad at him once for something he objectively had no control.
"Welcome to it," I replied.
My experience has been in the venue of romance there is no real equity per se. Don't argue your position, accept guilt and request forgiveness and if needed retribution.
Most of the time if your not dating a complete psycho the girl will eventually come around either forget about it or admit she may have over reacted- translated although you plead guilty it really should have been a no contest.
The trick is if you are with someone truly psycho to not drink the koolaid, which is tough because your threshold for "acceptable" gets blurry and before you know it you find yourself on a Sunday morning bringing her bubbly water and advil for the hangover she got when she ditched you on a Saturday night to go out with her friends.
"Next time you get that drunk call me I'll come and get you," you'll hear yourself say.
"I didn't want to bother you so late," she'll reply- translated I hooked up with someone else...
But I don't think my step son "Sancho" will have that problem.
What happened...I happened...my new matra
So the strange part is her name is the same name of my parental Grandmother, and so its hard for me to get around this fact...yet I have been told she is very pretty - as (apparently) others here have actually seen her.
It's no wonder, he is 6'2 handsome, intelligent and charming. She is one of the first in a long line I'm certain.
So tonight I asked him about it. Right before dating him she had a boyfriend for eight months thus I now understand why he was called "Sancho" by his brothers since the beginning of the year. Sancho is the dude that takes your girl-and (apparently) thats what Aidan aka "Sancho" did- took the girl.
That in itself is something I have never accomplished although I had certainly contemplated trying. I have never been "Sancho".
"So what happened that made her decided to leave her boyfriend?" I asked.
"What happened? I happened," he replied.
Sancho- the guy that takes your girl.
He told me she had already gotten mad at him once for something he objectively had no control.
"Welcome to it," I replied.
My experience has been in the venue of romance there is no real equity per se. Don't argue your position, accept guilt and request forgiveness and if needed retribution.
Most of the time if your not dating a complete psycho the girl will eventually come around either forget about it or admit she may have over reacted- translated although you plead guilty it really should have been a no contest.
The trick is if you are with someone truly psycho to not drink the koolaid, which is tough because your threshold for "acceptable" gets blurry and before you know it you find yourself on a Sunday morning bringing her bubbly water and advil for the hangover she got when she ditched you on a Saturday night to go out with her friends.
"Next time you get that drunk call me I'll come and get you," you'll hear yourself say.
"I didn't want to bother you so late," she'll reply- translated I hooked up with someone else...
But I don't think my step son "Sancho" will have that problem.
What happened...I happened...my new matra
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Fat and Lonely
My Grandmother hated fat people and people with poor oral hygiene.
I don’t hate fat people, but I do have admit I have issues with poor oral hygiene. I would live in my car if my teeth were fucked up and I had to pay to fix them. I would ride a bike and not own a car if it meant fixing my teeth.
At my elementary school there was always a few kids with a metal cap or even worse a brown dead tooth right in front. I always feared somehow I would have a dental mishap and end up with a disfiguring tooth injury. It was one of my two goals in elementary school, don’t ever be the kid with the fucked up front tooth, and since every year one kid in my class barfed I willed myself to never be that kid…lofty goals, yet I was successful.
I was so completely paranoid about my teeth I wore a dental guard when I rode my skateboard, keeping in mind I was in third grade, so this has been an obsession since I had teeth.
Thankfully I currently don’t have a dental issue(s), but I’m fairly certain I’m getting fat. I think I look a little better in the face, but the ass and middle, not so much.
This is a good reason to not own a full length mirror, at some point I might have to look at my body naked, and I really don’t want to do that…the house I lived in before this house was a real fuck pad- a Jacuzzi in the bedroom- and the master bathroom was completely mirrored, so I would be looking at my self sitting on the toilet or get a glance of that terrible tattoo on my lower back, or a one of the many divots in my thighs, it was always unsettling.
I don’t have a full length mirror, a scale or an alarm lock in my little house, and I don’t miss any of it- like I don’t miss facebook- when its there you feel compelled to look…its that and the fact I have become a social isolate so I’m not so concerned with “social networking”- or really any activity which includes the words “networking” or “social” in its description.
So I’m fat and lonely.
Today I took the girls to visit my mom and one of our typical activities it to go to Wal-Mart.
I spent $113.76 and I purchased the following items;
1. 10 drinking cups for the girls (I know 10 seems like a lot but these don’t leak, and these things disappear out of the house like socks…)
2. A forty pound bag of dog food
3. 2 sets of Dora the Explorer pj's
4. Pine Sol (Mountain Fresh scent)
5. Candy, cookies, snacks including nuts, and 3 six packs of regular soda (Root Beer, Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper)
So here’s the problem, the non edible items, which for me includes the Pine Sol, could not have been more than 52.65 (ok that’s an exact figure) of the total- that means the remaining 61.11 was spent on food, more specifically food without any real nutritional value- food with sugar, sodium and saturated fats-..actually upon reflection to call what I bought food is an insult to food- what I really bought was a variety of chemical conglomerations rich in flavor.
Last night after pounding back a few handfuls of M & M's I panicked...I will have to remember to brush my teeth....
I don’t hate fat people, but I do have admit I have issues with poor oral hygiene. I would live in my car if my teeth were fucked up and I had to pay to fix them. I would ride a bike and not own a car if it meant fixing my teeth.
At my elementary school there was always a few kids with a metal cap or even worse a brown dead tooth right in front. I always feared somehow I would have a dental mishap and end up with a disfiguring tooth injury. It was one of my two goals in elementary school, don’t ever be the kid with the fucked up front tooth, and since every year one kid in my class barfed I willed myself to never be that kid…lofty goals, yet I was successful.
I was so completely paranoid about my teeth I wore a dental guard when I rode my skateboard, keeping in mind I was in third grade, so this has been an obsession since I had teeth.
Thankfully I currently don’t have a dental issue(s), but I’m fairly certain I’m getting fat. I think I look a little better in the face, but the ass and middle, not so much.
This is a good reason to not own a full length mirror, at some point I might have to look at my body naked, and I really don’t want to do that…the house I lived in before this house was a real fuck pad- a Jacuzzi in the bedroom- and the master bathroom was completely mirrored, so I would be looking at my self sitting on the toilet or get a glance of that terrible tattoo on my lower back, or a one of the many divots in my thighs, it was always unsettling.
I don’t have a full length mirror, a scale or an alarm lock in my little house, and I don’t miss any of it- like I don’t miss facebook- when its there you feel compelled to look…its that and the fact I have become a social isolate so I’m not so concerned with “social networking”- or really any activity which includes the words “networking” or “social” in its description.
So I’m fat and lonely.
Today I took the girls to visit my mom and one of our typical activities it to go to Wal-Mart.
I spent $113.76 and I purchased the following items;
1. 10 drinking cups for the girls (I know 10 seems like a lot but these don’t leak, and these things disappear out of the house like socks…)
2. A forty pound bag of dog food
3. 2 sets of Dora the Explorer pj's
4. Pine Sol (Mountain Fresh scent)
5. Candy, cookies, snacks including nuts, and 3 six packs of regular soda (Root Beer, Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper)
So here’s the problem, the non edible items, which for me includes the Pine Sol, could not have been more than 52.65 (ok that’s an exact figure) of the total- that means the remaining 61.11 was spent on food, more specifically food without any real nutritional value- food with sugar, sodium and saturated fats-..actually upon reflection to call what I bought food is an insult to food- what I really bought was a variety of chemical conglomerations rich in flavor.
Last night after pounding back a few handfuls of M & M's I panicked...I will have to remember to brush my teeth....
Sunday, March 13, 2011
50/50
Fortunately for my unfortunate situation Gioconda and I are sharing the custody of the girls 50/50. The thing is there are two of them, and so although it would seem it would make it 50% easier having another person it actually makes it 78% easier to take care of them with another person.
So, with me there is a learning curve.
My goal at the beginning was to keep them alive while in my care, yet at this point I have upgraded to keeping them alive, and not permanently disfigured ( which includes amputations) while under my care.
As of today I'm at 100%, I'm not going to get cocky.
While playing with them outside today I noticed Sadie has a jaw breaker in her mouth, and then I thought - I didn't give her a jaw breaker- and then I thought I wouldn't give her a jaw breaker. The subsequent mouth sweep revealed a pebble the perfect diameter of a two year old's trachea.
So this is now rolling around my head, what if she swallowed it how could I dislodge it from her throat...what if I put my finger down to get it and pushed it further back...what if I didn't see it and I turn the corner and there she is unable to breath...and by the end of the day it might as well have happened because I have played out every disastrous result in my head
In order to get my head around it I have characterized these situations as follows;
The exacta; disgusting boxed with potentially life threatening-the trifecta; disgusting, with life threatening boxed with your fault - and God help me - the superfecta; disgusting, life threatening, your fault and legal consequence.
Please note arguably "your fault" could always be factored into any scenario, so I have come to just accept liability for those acts in which I am actively negligent - example giving Sadie an electric sander to play with as opposed to accidentally leaving a steak knife on the high chair tray.
Two years ago I heard on the news about a two year old killed when the family's pet boa constrictor got out of his cage and into the little girls crib. I am haunted by this, and to the best of my knowledge there are no loose or caged boa constrictors in the house and we live no where near a swamp, yet I find I am actually fearful of this happening.
"Your Grandfather was almost killed by a sow when he was a toddler," my mother said when I told her about my fear of having one of the girls crushed by a snake.
She has told me the entire story, although I have no recollection of the details other than he wasn't killed.
Sure I have pigs, and yes they have pistol whipped me once...which turned out to be a huge misunderstanding which we ended up laughing about when I got back from the ER, yet still how can you compare the two...
So, with me there is a learning curve.
My goal at the beginning was to keep them alive while in my care, yet at this point I have upgraded to keeping them alive, and not permanently disfigured ( which includes amputations) while under my care.
As of today I'm at 100%, I'm not going to get cocky.
While playing with them outside today I noticed Sadie has a jaw breaker in her mouth, and then I thought - I didn't give her a jaw breaker- and then I thought I wouldn't give her a jaw breaker. The subsequent mouth sweep revealed a pebble the perfect diameter of a two year old's trachea.
So this is now rolling around my head, what if she swallowed it how could I dislodge it from her throat...what if I put my finger down to get it and pushed it further back...what if I didn't see it and I turn the corner and there she is unable to breath...and by the end of the day it might as well have happened because I have played out every disastrous result in my head
In order to get my head around it I have characterized these situations as follows;
The exacta; disgusting boxed with potentially life threatening-the trifecta; disgusting, with life threatening boxed with your fault - and God help me - the superfecta; disgusting, life threatening, your fault and legal consequence.
Please note arguably "your fault" could always be factored into any scenario, so I have come to just accept liability for those acts in which I am actively negligent - example giving Sadie an electric sander to play with as opposed to accidentally leaving a steak knife on the high chair tray.
Two years ago I heard on the news about a two year old killed when the family's pet boa constrictor got out of his cage and into the little girls crib. I am haunted by this, and to the best of my knowledge there are no loose or caged boa constrictors in the house and we live no where near a swamp, yet I find I am actually fearful of this happening.
"Your Grandfather was almost killed by a sow when he was a toddler," my mother said when I told her about my fear of having one of the girls crushed by a snake.
She has told me the entire story, although I have no recollection of the details other than he wasn't killed.
Sure I have pigs, and yes they have pistol whipped me once...which turned out to be a huge misunderstanding which we ended up laughing about when I got back from the ER, yet still how can you compare the two...
Monday, February 28, 2011
Guest House
My cousin once dated this guy whose mother worked at a brick factory.
Tragically she was crushed to death at work, and that's all I know, however, until recently when I was contemplating this...which in itself is somewhat troubling, I considered the fact I just assumed she was crushed by a pile of bricks, but the reality is she could have been crushed by anything...well anything heavy enough at a brick factory to crush an adult woman.
She could have gotten caught in the machine that makes the bricks for all I know, yet in my head I always imagined the unfortunate woman under a brick pile, maybe a hand or foot poking out.
Its March and I have not published a blog this year, mostly because I'm getting divorced and its hard to fit it in between all the fighting. I am currently residing at 2105 Santa Rosa, the address of our guest house, which is no longer a guest house- but is now my house- and will be my house until a) we can find a buyer and b) this person can qualify for a loan, so my guess is a long fucking time.
In any event, those things will be worked out in time, if one of us isn't in prison and one of us isn't permanently disfigured.
The first tenant of the guest house was Julien and when he went away to a college Christian became the occupant, he did something terrible I can't recall what and was evicted and then Dylan took residence until he moved out. So although never fully confirmed prior to my tenancy the guest house was a hybrid hang out, fuck pad, hash den...
Last weekend I moved the couch to sweep and a hazmat team had to respond.
With my residency the guest house is now a hybrid kennel, kennel, kennel- basically it's a kennel.
After 8 weeks I had nothing in the refrigerator except for carmel sauce, and relish; left behind by prior occupants.
So understandably these days I find myself thinking about the mother of a guy my cousin used to date being crushed at the brick factory, and other things you don't necessarily want to share with others relatively frequently.
In the past I have been accused of focusing on the foibles of others in my writing and thus avoid revealing myself. This is actually true. So this is my new reveal. We got gay married and now we are getting gay divorced ...and we share two minor children...so theres that. .. but I allow myself to go only so far with all that...its a day by day thing for me.
In any event, today while I was with my mom at the Walmart I was crying to her (literally) about everything wrong.
"There isn't a problem I don't have, " I told her.
"You know what your problem is?" she said.
"You need to get your Mo Jo back."
And she's right.
Mo Jo is like pornography, you can't define it but you know it when you see it.
I bought the highest watt light bulbs I could at the WalMart and replaced every single one in my little house. I filled the refrigerator with a variety of beverages, as I don't know how to cook food so many of my meals are liquid, and I organized my book shelf... but I still don't feel exactly like me, which I guess will now be a hybrid of the new me, the old me and a kennel.
Tragically she was crushed to death at work, and that's all I know, however, until recently when I was contemplating this...which in itself is somewhat troubling, I considered the fact I just assumed she was crushed by a pile of bricks, but the reality is she could have been crushed by anything...well anything heavy enough at a brick factory to crush an adult woman.
She could have gotten caught in the machine that makes the bricks for all I know, yet in my head I always imagined the unfortunate woman under a brick pile, maybe a hand or foot poking out.
Its March and I have not published a blog this year, mostly because I'm getting divorced and its hard to fit it in between all the fighting. I am currently residing at 2105 Santa Rosa, the address of our guest house, which is no longer a guest house- but is now my house- and will be my house until a) we can find a buyer and b) this person can qualify for a loan, so my guess is a long fucking time.
In any event, those things will be worked out in time, if one of us isn't in prison and one of us isn't permanently disfigured.
The first tenant of the guest house was Julien and when he went away to a college Christian became the occupant, he did something terrible I can't recall what and was evicted and then Dylan took residence until he moved out. So although never fully confirmed prior to my tenancy the guest house was a hybrid hang out, fuck pad, hash den...
Last weekend I moved the couch to sweep and a hazmat team had to respond.
With my residency the guest house is now a hybrid kennel, kennel, kennel- basically it's a kennel.
After 8 weeks I had nothing in the refrigerator except for carmel sauce, and relish; left behind by prior occupants.
So understandably these days I find myself thinking about the mother of a guy my cousin used to date being crushed at the brick factory, and other things you don't necessarily want to share with others relatively frequently.
In the past I have been accused of focusing on the foibles of others in my writing and thus avoid revealing myself. This is actually true. So this is my new reveal. We got gay married and now we are getting gay divorced ...and we share two minor children...so theres that. .. but I allow myself to go only so far with all that...its a day by day thing for me.
In any event, today while I was with my mom at the Walmart I was crying to her (literally) about everything wrong.
"There isn't a problem I don't have, " I told her.
"You know what your problem is?" she said.
"You need to get your Mo Jo back."
And she's right.
Mo Jo is like pornography, you can't define it but you know it when you see it.
I bought the highest watt light bulbs I could at the WalMart and replaced every single one in my little house. I filled the refrigerator with a variety of beverages, as I don't know how to cook food so many of my meals are liquid, and I organized my book shelf... but I still don't feel exactly like me, which I guess will now be a hybrid of the new me, the old me and a kennel.
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